One day I walked outside for lunch and I noticed it. There was a complete freedom of movement in my body and absence of pain. I looked around and the sky was blue, the air smelled clean, the breeze was soft on my skin. In that moment, I had no unmet needs and no unfulfilled desires. The absences were so satisfying. I could have turned right around, walked back inside the building and continued on with my day, without missing a beat, even though I would have missed a meal.
It's another one of those mornings when I know I want to write, but nothing comes to mind. I have no personal agenda for the day. There is no problem that needs a solution. There is no project that needs planning. The work day is ahead of me, but there's nothing unusual or pressing there either. This day is a blank slate.
I'll never forget the first time I was at a restaurant with my mother and couldn't finish my meal. She told me we would ask the waitress for a doggy bag. I asked her why they called it that and she said that's just what it was called. We didn't have dogs when I was little, and my parents were not pet lovers. It wasn't until I had a dog of my own that I started to understand that phrase. Now I know that the doggy bag was there so we could bring some of that wonderful meal with us and share it with those at home, humans or dogs.